A Cowboy's Promise

Holt Perry was a man on the run. He had no time to waste if he was to escape his pursuers. But when he stopped for supplies in the small town of Buffalo Hollow, he found a family in even more desperate straits than him.

Lizzie Tate had been barely holding on. Her father fell ill several months ago, leaving the running of the store and the care of her little sister to her. Now winter approached, and their fuel supply was dangerously low.

Holt promised to help the Tates, even though every moment with them was a second closer to being caught. But as he spends time with Lizzie and her family, feeling the warmth of their love, he finds himself wanting something more impossible than freedom a place to call home.

Chapter Six

Lizzie heard the longing in Emma's voice. Understood it. With Holt there, the room was warmer and more secure than it had been since Pa fell ill in the summer. But Holt wasn't the answer they needed although she couldn't deny the deep gratitude and relief she felt at his offer to make sure they had enough coal and wood to get them through winter.

Pa indicated he'd had enough tea and she moved to the stove to stir the soup. Rationing fuel had meant restricting her cooking to what she could prepare on the pot-bellied stove in the store. But now she'd be able to make better meals. Surely Pa would then start to improve.

She studied him. He seemed to be resting peacefully. Praise the Good Lord.

Her eyes continued on to Holt. Emma had brought out her rag doll and was chattering to him about "Miss Ellen's" adventures. Holt nodded and made appropriate comments, appearing to take the child's imaginations seriously. Everything inside Lizzie tilted sideways at the sight of the big man bent close to Emma, his over-long black hair brushing his strong jawline.

He turned, noticed her watching and grinned. "Miss Ellen has been a busy young lady. She's visited several cities I haven't seen. Even been to the ocean." His coffee-colored eyes filled with amusement. And something more that drew her into her own dream world.

She found herself longing for things she would not allow herself to confessa home such as she'd known as a child. Security. Love. She gave a mental snort. Not that she wasn't loved. But that wasn't the sort of love she meant. In the most secret places of her heart, she yearned for a love that cherished her as a woman.

But her responsibility to her pa and little sister made such romantic notions impossible. The few men who had shown any interest in Lizzie had made it plain they didn't want to be tied down by her family.

She jerked her attention back to the simmering pot. Her imagination was almost as rampant as Emma's. "The soup is ready. Emma, would you set the table?"

"Okay. Holt, you hold Miss Ellen."

Lizzie expected the man to protest. When he didn't she had to steal a look. He sat with Miss Ellen on his lap, his big hands cradling the rag doll as gingerly as if it were china. Try as she might she couldn't contain a chortle.

Holt grinned at her. "It's a rare occasion that I get to hold someone's best friend."

Their gazes locked. Did she see interest in his eyes, or was it only her own hopes she saw? She tore her eyes away.

He was a stranger. She couldn't possibly have feelings for him in such a short time. Yes, he was kind to help them, but he was only passing through. Likely, as Pa said, on the run. She'd had enough of young men who had only leaving on their minds, who expected she should abandon her family to join their wild pursuits. This man was no different. The sooner he moved on, the better, she decided as she began to ladle out the soup.

He waited until she sat down. "Do you want me to say grace?" At her nod, he did so. He spoke as if he and God were on a friendly basis.

Which was no reason to allow herself even a thread of attraction. Words easier said than obeyed.